


Swesson Love Week

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, Flirting, Love Notes, M/M, Sex Toys, Swesson, Swesson Love Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 19:30:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Either Swesson or Wincest, all set in or around episode 4.17 <i>"It's A Terrible Life"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Swesson Love Week for[offermethatdeathlessdeathgoodgod.](http://offermethatdeathlessdeathgoodgod.tumblr.com)

******On Monday**

It was a Monday and he hated them, always had even when he was a little kid, at least he thought he remembered that about himself. So much was hazy about his past, but he felt it was likely that he never had the best memory. But that didn’t matter much once he realized that Mr. IT was in the elevator with him again, just like he had been every morning last week, that he remembered for sure. Who could ever possibly forget the towering height, that wide brilliant dimpled smile and those eyes, oh those eyes. He could have fell forward into them and never come out, it seemed even more important than getting his quarterly sales report done for his boss to just keep looking into their depths.

“Mr. Smith? Isn’t this your floor?” Mr. IT was asking, sounding like maybe he’d already asked the question a few times.

He reluctantly tore his eyes away from Mr. IT’s and shook his head hoping to clear it enough to get out of the elevator without seeming even more of a love-struck fool. He took a step forward, but the door closed right in his face, he’d hesitated a bit too long. Mr. IT chuckled behind him.

“Guess you’re stuck with me for four more floors,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Who knew that eyes actually twinkled like that?

“Want me to press your floor number?” Mr. IT asked, “I know you don’t like to be late.”

“How do you know that?” Dean finally managed to find his voice and say something. It came out halting, rough and lower than usual.

Mr. IT’s eyebrows went up briefly. “Oh believe me, I know,” he said, smiling a different sort of smile that made Dean wish the elevator would come to a screeching halt for an hour or so, quarterly sales report be damned!

All of a sudden, the elevator did stop because of Mr. IT’s finger stabbing the Stop button and Dean found himself falling forward into his open waiting arms and insanely firm chest. The lights dimmed by half because of the emergency cycle, alarm buzzer ringing incessantly. Dean looked up at him, face slightly shadowed now from this angle. “Why’d you do that?”

“So I could do this,” Mr IT said softly, leaning in to brush his lips against Dean’s gently at first and then more forcefully once Dean responded.

There were cameras in here, Dean knew that, but he didn’t care just then, not when he was being kissed like this, it felt like something his heart had been pining for, for many years which was impossible. He relished this swept-away feeling and clutched tighter to Mr. IT’s biceps, then his shoulders, finally winding his arms around his strong neck. If he was on his tip-toes, well that would just be something he’d keep to himself, having to balance against this wall of a man wasn’t something Mr. IT could possibly miss. Not with how they were pressed together like the most perfect puzzle, all their parts lining up even with the height difference. Dean swore to himself he’d wear high heels just to keep this alignment happening.

“I don’t even know your name,” Dean said against Mr. IT’s throat once he’d finally been let down from the kiss. Dean’s lips moved against that perfect neck he’d been admiring for a solid week, kissing his way to the spot he hoped would work.

When Mr. IT groaned and whispered, “Sam, my name’s Sam,” Dean smiled against the tan skin and gripped it ever…so…gently with his front teeth, relishing the moan Sam gave him along with his name.

Maybe Mondays weren’t so bad after all.

  
~~~~

**All About the Coffee**

Sam Wesson made it onto his floor just as the clock clicked over to nine, he was hoping he wouldn’t get a hard time from his boss for being a few moments late. He hadn’t even had time to pick up coffee and he hated the free stuff they had in the break room, there was a reason it was free. As he set his jacket over the back of his desk chair he caught a familiar aroma. It was coming from a steaming cup of coffee on his desk, set on a big napkin that was mostly covered with a glistening cinnamon roll.

Sam darted his eyes around the office, to see if anyone was watching to see how their gift was received. The only thing he noticed was the elevator doors closing on someone who was wearing a blue button-down and a yellow tie. He shrugged and sat down, sipping the coffee, thankful that it was still so warm. The cinnamon roll disappeared in a few bites and then he noticed the words written on the napkin. _~Happy Tuesday, are you as strong as this coffee?  I’m guessing yes._

He flushed at reading the note, this felt like junior high all over again. The coffee though, it was much too strong for him, especially with no sugar. He added several sugar packets from his desk drawer stash. That made it go down a little better, but it was awfully nice of whoever it was though. He smiled around the office in a 360 spin of his desk chair, hoping his benefactor would see.

The next morning was almost the same, but this time the coffee was milky and sweet. Sweet he could do, but not so much on the milk. No one wanted to be around him when he’d had any dairy. He did eat the entire bear claw though, licking his sticky fingers in enjoyment. He gave the milky coffee to his desk neighbor, Jeff. The note on the napkin though, that he didn’t give away, he tucked it in his desk drawer with yesterday’s. He ran the words through his mind all during the day, thrilled to have something so nice happening to him at this awful place where he had to spend his days working. _~Happy Wednesday, I’m pretty sure you’re sweeter than this coffee, but I’d love to find out._

As he looked around the office floor, he caught sight of the stairway door closing, a brief flash of wide shoulders and a striped shirt with contrasting collar, the hair at the nape of the man’s neck absolutely perfect and very familiar.

Thursday morning he was even later than usual, his boss was waiting for him at his desk with a frown and crossed arms. “Don’t say it, I know, boss. I know, I’m sorry,” Sam said.

His boss rolled his eyes, “For a second there, Wesson, I thought you were in early since there was a hot coffee on your desk. This is your last official warning, we can’t have you rolling in here late every day. Got it?”

“Got it, boss, you can count on me,” Sam said, sitting down to his desk with a thrill at seeing the coffee sitting next to a sparkly sugar-covered berry scone. He just wanted his boss to leave so he could read the secret admirer message. The coffee though, it was near perfect this time, a soy milk latte with thick foam and a dusting of chocolate that made him moan when he tasted the sweetness. He moved the scone and read the message. _~Happy Thursday, hope I’ve got it right by now, your smile sparkles even more brightly than this scone._

Sam quickly looked around to see if anyone, anyone at all were watching, and there was some movement behind the fake ficus near the elevators. He was pretty sure it was that guy he’d been dreaming about and seeing around work sometimes, the one he’d embarrassed himself in front of by talking about ghosts. Why would he be on this floor though, he looked like one of those guys who worked in sales, always dressed so perfectly in tailored suits and ironed button-downs. with coordinating ties. That reminded him of what he’d seen on Tuesday when this had started, someone with clothes like that on the elevator, and the person leaving through the stairway door yesterday.

He jumped up from his desk and strode towards the elevator lobby, the fake ficus fell over with a crash as the man who’d been hiding behind it tried to slip past Sam. But that wasn’t happening, Sam stuck an arm out and caught him before he hit the floor with the ficus. The man struggled in his grip which Sam was honestly surprised to find an instant turn-on. “Stop struggling, dude, I just wanted to thank you.”

The man relaxed under his hands, but Sam kept them there tight on his shoulders, god they were wide and so strong. He couldn’t believe how green the man’s eyes were or how well they contrasted with the adorable dusting of freckles across his nose. “Thank me for what?” he finally asked in a deep voice that sent a thrill up Sam’s spine.

“You’re the one that’s been leaving me coffee and pastries, every morning this week. Thanks, it’s been really nice. I haven’t had a secret admirer in a long time,” Sam said, smiling at remembering all the sweet and sexy notes the man had written him.

“I find that hard to believe,” the man said, turning a little red in the cheeks.

“What’s your name?” Sam pressed, holding the man more tightly, puling him in closer so that their bodies were flush up against one another.

“Dean, Dean Smith, I work down on the sales floor,” Dean said in a rush, pressing himself against Sam like he couldn’t help himself. Sam could feel Dean starting to chub up against him, the look on his face turned desperate. “I, gotta go, okay?” He tore his eyes away from Sam and stared wildly around Sam’s floor at everyone watching them.

  
Sam reluctantly took his hands off Dean’s shoulders and extended his right hand to shake. He felt Dean’s warm hand take his firmly and just held it for a while. There was this connection that he felt flow between them, something both familiar and completely new. “Well, Dean, as you probably know, my name’s Sam Wesson. I know you said to save it for the health club, but I think I need to come to your office at lunchtime, give your desktop unit a once-over, see what _comes up, I know how hard it can get_.”

Dean just looked at him with his big green eyes, mouth wide open in surprise at Sam’s directness. Sam smiled then, knowing that using his wolfish leer this early was aggressive, but Dean echoed it right back to him. They were on the same page.

Dean turned to leave, pushing the up button on the wall, shrugging his shoulders back like he could still feel Sam’s hands on them. Sam ghosted a finger along the top of his collar and Dean turned slightly to look back at him. “You have an amazing ass, Dean. I can’t wait to find out what it feels like.”

The elevator door opened then, and a red-face Dean stumbled into it, he turned and looked out at Sam and waved his hand, slightly dazed.

Sam couldn’t wait for his lunch break.

~~~~

**Blue Screen**

His screen went to that deathly blue again, for the third time today. He wanted to throw the desktop across his office or maybe out his fourteenth story window. But it didn’t open. His secretary was out sick today, so he had to call the I.T. department himself. Which was annoying enough, but when he got some new joker on the line, Sam something or other who advised him to turn it on and off again, the obscenities he screamed into the phone were, well, they were ill-advised in the workplace.

He responded to the tentative knock on his door with an abrupt, “Come!”

“Don’t mind if I do,” the tallest hunk of beefcake Dean had ever seen strode into the room. The man was practically poured into one of those stupid yellow IT polo shirts, and his khakis were sinfully form-fitting too, almost too tight. Dean had a flash of hope that he’d get to watch the show as this guy crawled around under his desk. “Hey? Mr. Smith, you rang for IT help, sir?” The beefcake was waving one hand trying to get his attention, Dean felt his neck and face flush, hot and red at being caught in the middle of ogling.

“Ahem…yes, my desktop keeps blue screening me, and I’m in the middle of finishing my quarterly reports that were due yesterday. This is unacceptable.”

“You tried turning it on and off like I suggested?”

Dean clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from throttling beefcake, whose name tag read, SAM, perched right above one the perkiest nipples he’d seen in a while. He couldn’t stop his lips as they pursed and suckled.

Sam interrupted him with a chuckle. “Mr. Smith, why I think you might just stare a hole right through my shirt.”

Dean looked up into Sam’s face and saw a smirk that he wanted to kiss into something else. He leaned up on tiptoes and did just that, trying to take back control of the situation. He was the boss here,right? Sam lifted him up and settled him on his hips, pressing their crotches together he slammed Dean into the office door. Sam began to grind and thrust into Dean in a powerful rhythm that cut Dean off from any thought f who was in control. He didn’t care now that it wasn’t him. He let himself get swept away by the sheer power of this man.

“Want to mess you up, Mr.Smith. Right here, right now,” Sam growled against Dean’s throat, nipping and suckling hard.

Dean groaned when he realized Sam was leaving marks all over him that would be impossible to hide. Somehow that made it even hotter, he wanted everyone to know he’d been owned, taken by Sam. “Call me, Dean, and yeah, go for it,” Dean managed to say between open-mouthed panting.

Sam hoisted him back up and carried him across the office, dumping him down onto the leather couch. He threw off his shirt and began opening his khakis. “Get naked, now,” Sam ordered, staring down at Dean with a white-hot intensity that Dean couldn’t help but obey.

Then all Dean knew was Sam eclipsing him in a flurry of hands and mouth, taking away all conscious thought. He only came back to himself when Sam had gone still, waiting for his consent.

“Want to hear you beg, Dean,” Sam said, holding his hardness in his hand, stroking it in a display that made Dean’s mouth water with desire to taste.

“Want it, Sam, want you in me now, please,” Dean said, eyes never leaving Sam’s.

Sam grinned once he’d heard the words and pressed into Dean, and when exactly had he even been stretched and opened up, when had Sam gotten a condom and lube? Dean didn’t know or care, not one bit, he was just letting himself get swept up in all this  Fear suddenly spiked when he realized the door was unlocked. “Sam, door’s unlocked.”

“Yeah, I know, baby. Anyone could come in, at any second and see me taking you like this, could come in and hear you begging me,” Sam said with a smirk, then plunged inside even deeper.

Dean didn’t care then, Janice from accounting and his boss, Zachariah could be standing in the doorway for all he cared. Hell he wanted people to see this, to know that he was being owned by this tornado of a man. “God, Sam, ’s too good,” he managed to say, and then he was coming between them. Sam sped up until he was trembling, then collapsing over Dean, squishing him down into the couch. Dean never wanted anything more than to just stay like this forever.

Sam kissed him softly, so gently after all that frenetic energy, then pulled out with obvious reluctance and threw away the condom in Dean’s wastebasket. “So, should I take a look at your computer now?”

Dean laughed and fumbled on the floor for his clothes. “Yeah, okay.” He remembered the reason he’d called Sam in here what seemed like ages ago. Everything had changed, he wanted to be Sam’s. He started putting his clothes back on, but Sam crossed the room in two strides. He pulled Dean’s hands back out of his button-down and pressed Dean face down into the couch. Dean could feel Sam’s hot breath on the back of his neck and then felt Sam’s teeth biting him, deep and hard. He could hear Sam growling something.  “Did you just say you’re mine?” Dean asked, voice muffled in the leather couch cushion.

Sam kissed all around the bite that now stung like a son-of-a-bitch. “Yeah, Dean I did, cause you are mine, right?”

Dean found he was able to turn around in Sam’s grasp, and looked up into his face, eyes gone tight with worry. “Yeah, I am, Sam. Yours.”

~~~~

**Those Red Suspenders**

It’s after they get out of that building, after they’ve made it back to the Impala which is thankfully no longer a Prius that they can laugh. They drive a few hours away and get some takeout and eat it in their motel room. After they’ve finished off the six-pack, Sam points and laughs at the clothes Dean is still wearing and snaps his red suspenders harder than necessary. In retaliation Dean yanks at the stupidly tight yellow polo shirt, pulling it off of Sam and pushing him back onto the bed.

“He thought he was teaching us something we didn’t already know,” Dean said, kissing his way down his brother’s neck.

Sam snapped the suspenders again, making Dean hiss as they hit his now-erect nipples. “Oh you like that Mr.Smith, huh? Does Mr. Smith need to be disciplined for not submitting his quarterly report on time?”

Dean glowered at Sam and tried to summon up the superior sneer he’d felt on his face for the last day or so. “As if you could, you’re just an IT peon.”

Sam flipped them over and Dean felt his breath catch as Sam towered over him, puffing his bare chest up until he looked even larger than ever. Something in Sam’s eye made him go still. Sam’s eyes never left his as he untied Dean’s red tie and pulled it off his collar, he leaned over and tied Dean’s wrists together.

“I won’t stand for this, I’m going to report you, you’ll lose your shitty little job for this,” Dean said, struggling to stay in character.

Sam looked down at him, one eyebrow raised. “You keep running your mouth like that, I’m going to have to fill it up.” Sam ground down on Dean then so he couldn’t manage to respond. He unbuttoned Dean’s shirt and pulled it off him, leaving the suspenders on. He snapped them several more times until Dean cried out in some mixture of pleasure and pain. Sam stood up from the bed and shucked his khakis off, and jacked himself over Dean’s face.

Dean looked up at him, helpless with desire he opened his mouth. Sam fed it to him slowly, talking dirty the whole way until he was filled completely, Sam hitting the back of his throat.

“Damn, Mr. Smith, that cock-sucking mouthof yours, it’s better than I thought it’d be.”

Sam took his time, plunging in and out of Dean’s mouth and finally coming hot and hard down his throat. Dean swallowed it all, arching for some kind of friction for himself. “Sam, c’mon don’t leave me hangin’.”

“But, Mr. Smith, I thought I was going to lose my shitty little job?” Sam teased.

“Damn it, Sam! You fuckin’ tease, Fine, you suck me off, and I won’t report you,” Dean finally said, throat rough and raw.

Sam snapped the suspenders a few more times until Dean moaned with the pain. He suckled and bit at Dean’s nipples until they were even more puffy and sore. Dean was moaning and writhing with the intense sensations, all it took was two passes of Sam’s giant hand massaging at his hardness before he was coming in his silk underwear and suit pants.

“I’m still reporting you, that wasn’t a blow job, man” Dean teased once he got his breath back.

Sam snapped the suspenders one last time. “Shut up, Mr.Smith, you and I both know you loved it.”

~~~~

**Mis-use of Office Property**

He was in the middle of finishing the proposal that was due that afternoon, make that an hour ago. It was always a rush job, never enough time to concentrate and do things thoroughly. So the interruption of the familiar Skype trill from his cellphone wasn’t too welcome. But he only ever Skyped with one person, for one reason. And the deal was that there was no ignoring it, not if he called Sam, or if Sam called him. He couldn’t come up with a clear reason why they had come to this arrangement, but it worked for them both. Teasing each other until they were nearly senseless with desire and then falling into each other’s arms when they reached their shared apartment. It had been going on for weeks now and it kept getting hotter somehow, so Dean wasn’t about to quit now.

He pressed the buttons that answered the call and smiled at Sam’s face, already that flushed pink that he got when he was really turned on.

“You still wearing it, baby?” Dean asked.

Sam shifted in his desk chair and sighed into his headset mike. “Yeah of course, I said I would.”

“Does it still feel good, plugging you up deep inside?”

“That’s why I’m calling, it feels too good,” Sam whined quietly.

“So you want to get off right now? Go ahead, baby, let me see you,” Dean said, curious to see if Sam would actually go through with it.

“What, right here?” Sam whispered. “You’ll need to turn it on and off again, sir,” he said in his usual IT drone voice.

“Uh huh,” Dean said, tipping the phone down so Sam could see how hard he was already. He unzipped and jacked himself a few times and moaned loudly.

“God, Dean,” Sam whispered. “No, sir, it’ll take a little bit to warm up,” he said in an unsteady version of his IT drone voice.

“No, names, remember?” Dean said in a stern voice, he smiled when he saw Sam nod and then noticed the movement of his right shoulder. “Let me see you beautiful, c’mon.”

Sam tipped his phone down towards his lap and Dean groaned. “Oh god, that’s so hot, baby. Right there where anyone could see you, jacking that big cock of yours right under your desk. Come for me, want to see it, right now.”

Sam made a noise that was a muffled cry mixed with a squeak as he tried to contain the noise of his orgasm. He flipped the phone back up so that his face was showing. “Now you, you sadistic bastard,” he growled quietly.

“Okay, baby. Here it comes, just for you,” Dean said, setting his phone down and spreading his legs wider, hand moving faster and faster as he heard every one of Sam’s panted breaths coming from the phone. He came, shooting onto the phone and the desk top and his hand. Sam’s approving groan was the best thing he’d heard that day.

“May I please take it out now?” Sam asked in a whisper. “Yes sir, I’m so glad I could be helpful to you today,” he said brightly, putting on a show for his neighbors.

“Yeah, you’ve been real helpful for me today, I’ll see you tonight, Sam,” Dean said, smiling at Sam as he cleaned off his phone screen and desktop. Sam wiggled his fingers goodbye and pursed his lips in a kiss. Dean sent one back and they clicked off the call. His mind was suddenly clear and focused enough to get his proposal finished so he could get home early that night. He didn’t want to keep Sam waiting at home for too long.

~~~~

**Egg Rolls**

“Hey, Wesson, how are those egg rolls from Rice Bowl?” a familiar voice asked over his shoulder in the lunch room.  Sam turned around and gazed up into those green eyes he could never quite put out of his mind.

Mr. Smith tilted his head, obviously waiting for an answer from Sam. “I had heard they were good, but I haven’t had a chance to try them out myself.”

Sam finished chewing and wiped his greasy mouth on the back of his hand. “Oh man, they’re so good, I think they’re the best egg rolls I’ve ever had in my life. You want to have a bite of this last one?” Sam held the piece out on his chopsticks.

Mr. Smith bent down and wrapped his lips around the egg roll and moaned with exaggerated pleasure as he quickly ate it. Sam watched every movement of his beautiful lips, and watched him swallow with fascination.  Mr. Smith smiled at him then, a hungry predatory smile, like Sam was an egg roll he wanted to consume, Sam felt himself shiver at the thought.

“You do know those were mine, right?’ Mr. Smith whispered into Sam’s ear, making him shiver again at the close contact and the feeling of warm breath on his skin.

“They were? Uh…no, I’m sorry. Oh god, you’re not going to fire me, are you?” Sam asked, all in a panic at the thought of eating one of the VP’s lunches. “I thought they were Freddie’s, I was trying to get him back for taking my brisket sandwich last week.”

“Brisket sandwich, from Birks?” Mr. Smith asked with sudden interest, his smile going back to something softer, more genuine than the shark grin he’d just had.

“Uh…yeah, you know the place?” Sam asked, confused as to why Mr. Smith was maybe letting him off the hook.

“We’re going there for dinner, tonight. That’s how you’re making this up to me,” Mr. Smith said, definitely telling and not asking.

Sam shook his head and smiled. “You are a piece of work, Mr. Smith. Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I’ve been watching you for a long time, Wesson, and you’re not an easy one to gauge. Wasn’t sure how you’d respond to being asked out at work, you know…by a man.”

Sam busted out laughing at that, loud and long, so that everyone in the lunchroom was staring at them. Mr. Smith pulled him out of there and into the empty hallway, but the power between them shifted as he was pushing Sam through the doorway. Sam pulled Dean in tight to his body and spun him around, pressing him up against the wall. He leaned down and kissed Mr. Smith, rough and passionate, then backed away a step. “That a little easier for you to gauge, Mr. Smith?”

Sam felt his heart pounding with excitement and surprise, that Mr. Smith had responded so passionately to being manhandled, and he was one hell of a kisser, all he knew was he wanted another kiss as soon as possible, he didn’t care how many egg rolls or brisket sandwiches were involved.

“Tonight then?” Sam asked, leaning in to brush their lips together achingly slow, torturing both of them. “You gonna pick me up or what?”

“I’ll pick you up, I guess, unless you want to drive, or we could meet there—“ Mr. Smith rambled, appearing to be undone and near-breathless just from those two kisses.

Sam hoped that it was more, maybe it was the possibility of everything else that had him reeling. Maybe that was why Mr. Smith had been hesitant to approach him in the first place.

“Give me your cell phone,” Sam said, pulling himself up to his full height so that he loomed over Mr. Smith. He watched with amusement as he fumbled his phone out of his trouser pocket and laid it n Sam’s hand. Sam texted himself, and then took advantage of Mr. Smith’s nearness and pulled him into his arms, holding the phone out in front of them. He snapped a picture of them, and then sent that to himself also. “There, now you have my number and a picture of us. I’m hoping it’s the first of many.”

Several of their co-workers came out of the lunchroom chatting loudly and Sam reluctantly let Mr. Smith out of his arms. “I’ll see you tonight, Mr. Smith.” Sam walked off down the hall, knowing full well that he was being watched.

 _I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave ~ and please call me Dean_ , was the text he received before he turned the corner of the hall. Sam paused and burst out laughing and kept walking. It was going to be a long wait this afternoon.

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
**Did You Turn It On and Off Again?**

 

Dean was having a shit day, the coffee was bitter and cold, his car had been covered in bird crap, his suit pants had ripped and now his computer wasn’t working. The person he’d gotten on the phone in IT wasn’t much help, but he’d done the whole can-I-speak-to-your-manager thing so now someone was on the way. 

 

Good thing it had been over the phone, because he couldn’t pull off that dominance thing in person very well. Curse of being an omega in an alpha business world. He held his own in teleconferences and email negotiations just fine, but the interpersonal stuff was always fraught. He never knew if this was the time he was going to be found out and maybe pushed out of the company. The suppressors and scent-neutralizers he religiously took every morning seemed to cover the biology he couldn’t change, but he had to work hard to copy what he assumed the usual alpha interactions would be like. It was exhausting, and unfair, but he’d chosen to try and make himself fit into this kind of work environment. 

 

Someone knocked at the door and entered his office without waiting. It was the tall IT guy that Dean had been seeing a lot of lately, in the elevator where the guy had tried to make small talk with him, in the lunch room. He was hard to miss, he was huge, even for an alpha, and god he smelled good, Dean had to tear himself away every time they rode the elevator together, wanting to follow him wherever he was going. “Hey, Mr. Smith, I hear you’re having problems? I’m Sam Wesson, nice to meet you.”

 

Dean blinked a few times, realizing the enormous hand in front of him was meant for him to shake. He felt his small hand engulfed in Wesson’s, safe and warm and he didn’t want to let go, oh god this was going to get bad really fast here. “Yeah, thanks for coming so quickly. It’s just stuck on the boot-up menu, and before you ask, yes I’ve turned it on and off a couple times.”

 

“Everyone always gets so mad at us when we ask, but it really does solve eighty percent of stuff, silly as it may be,” Wesson said, still holding Dean’s hand.

 

Corralling all of his strength Dean managed to pull his hand out of Wesson’s and clenched it with his other hand so that he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and touch him. He looked sculpted, formed out of the most perfect arrangement of skin and bones and power and oh, his eyes they were so damn many colors. Dean didn’t care about his computer then, or his job at Sandover or anything else but—

 

“Mr. Smith?” Wesson was asking, a half-smile on his face, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

 

Dean shook his head to clear his mind and break the hold Sam’s eyes had trapped him with. He stepped around his desk so Sam could check out his computer but as their bodies brushed together, Dean felt himself falter, his control slipped and he leaned up against Sam’s chest, lips brushing at the skin at the neck of his polo shirt. He breathed in deeply, relishing that alpha scent,  but unlike any other he’d ever been attracted to so far. It was much richer somehow, like there was a whole symphony of emotions packed into Wesson’s aroma. 

 

“God, you smell good, Mr. Smith,” Wesson said, interrupting Dean’s train of thought.  _He’d taken them this morning, right? All the pills lined up in the organizer, pink, blue, purple, all washed down with his smoothie, right?_

 

“I thought all you execs were alphas though,” Wesson said, sniffing at Dean’s skin, brushing at it gently, teasing with his lips.

 

Dean cleared his throat and forced himself to step away, not answering the question. But Wesson followed him, which meant Dean was backed up against his bookcase. All of it, every last pill he’d taken, every lie he’d told, every time he’d held back from bending over for any alpha, it was all inconsequential. Because this man wasn’t just an alpha here in front of him, taking over his mind, all his senses, his air, he was  _everything._

 

“Breathe for me, baby, c’mon,” Wesson was saying, holding Dean in his arms and rubbing his back in small comforting circles. 

 

“What happened? Wesson?” Dean asked.

 

“Call me, Sam, or alpha,” Sam said, pulling Dean up onto his tiptoes to kiss him with such force that Dean stumbled even closer, their bodies pressed together.

 

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck and held on, kissed his way along Sam’s beautiful neck and jaw, nipping and biting. “How about I call you mate?” he asked near Sam’s ear.

 

Sam growled, low in his throat, threatening and powerful, he forced Dean away from him so that Dean fell back against the edge of his desk. “You shouldn’t say things like that if you don’t mean them, Mr. Smith.”

 

“Dean, it’s just Dean, please. I did mean it. I swear I’m not making this up, Sam, but I’ve never done anything like this or ever felt this before, that’s why I said mate. But if you don’t feel it too, then—“

 

“No! I do, fuck, of course I do, because you’re, oh god, you’re so perfect, Dean but you’re right, you do smell so differently than all the others, and I haven't ever felt like this with someone.”

 

“Sam, what do we do?” Dean asked, perched on the edge of his desk, he could feel the rip in his pants giving way even more, but he didn’t care, all he cared about now was his alpha, no his mate, there in front of him. 

 

“Need to mate you, Dean. All of them will be able to smell you, now that your mating call has been released.”

 

Dean swallowed nervously, “Right here?”

 

“Right now,” Sam answered, stepping between Dean’s legs. 

 

“I’ve never done this, Sam,” Dean said, running his hands up Sam’s torso, feeling all the muscles tensing with excitement and restrained power.

 

“It’s okay, Dean, I gotcha, I’ll make it good,” Sam promised, eyes going darker as Dean’s legs wrapped around Sam’s hips. Sam picked Dean up then, hands under his ass and walked him over to the leather couch near the window wall that looked out into the rest of the office floor. He laid Dean down gently, and took Dean’s clothes off piece by piece, throwing them over the chair. He laughed at the split seat of Dean’s trousers. “You were ready for me today, see?”

 

Dean went red with embarrassment but laughed anyway, because it was like his clothes had known before him or something, that today was The Day. Certainly not the one he’d expected, but the one he’d always secretly hoped would happen.

 

“You’re adorable when you blush like that,” Sam said, the growl back in his voice. Dean stared up at him naked and helplessly turned on, not able to do anything but watch in amazement as Sam pulled his yellow polo shirt off. He felt something deep in his body change when Sam undid his khakis and pulled them off, standing there proudly naked. Dean felt the slickness he knew his body was supposed to produce begin to trickle out onto the leather couch, he spread his legs and moaned, overwhelmed with need.

 

Dean tried to stay present and aware and even conscious during the next half hour or so, but it was too much, overwhelming to feel all of this after so long denying it to himself. Sam was a force of nature, swamping all his senses, blowing away all his hesitation and completely transforming the landscape of his body. He felt open and empty, then full beyond capacity. And there was this inevitability to it that swept his reservations away as if they’d never been there. He was made for Sam, just as Sam was made for him. 

 

He came back to himself as Sam was biting the nape of his neck, just below his hairline, in the permanent mark of mating, this was even more binding than a signature on a marriage contract. His body accepted it for him, letting loose a noise of joy and pleasure that he didn’t know he was capable of making. Sam laughed then and collapsed over his back, pushing him into the leather couch. “I’m so glad your computer stopped working today.”

 

Dean laughed too, because he couldn’t care less now about that stupid thing, Sam still deep inside him fixed everything that was broken or wrong with this day. He was perfect now—no, they were perfect.


End file.
